


Anticipatory

by Agent_24



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: After a disastrous election day, the gang gets word that a certain escaped convict has entered the fray again.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 151





	Anticipatory

**Author's Note:**

> I am caught in the throes of a new fandom...unfortunately I must admit it's unusual for me to post fic this often, so enjoy it while you can lmao.

Penny comes back from Robyn’s premature celebration party visibly shaken. Marrow returns close to morning, exhausted young Huntsmen in tow. The city's a mess, but Grim free for now.

Clover watches General Ironwood’s stress climb with each addition of bad news and braces himself for things to start going cataclysmically wrong.

“You’re sure this is the man you saw?” Clover asks, projecting Callows’ profile from his scroll.

There’s a tension in the room from Ruby’s team, from Qrow near the door. Winter fills them in on Callows’ mysterious disappearance from his prison transport, and the conversation escalates sharply; between the news of a killer on the prowl, the new Huntresses’ passionate points in favor of Mantle, and the General’s authoritative shutdown, Clover’s left with a feeling a dread coiling tight in his chest. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, appeasing. He flicks his gaze towards Qrow when he sees the man look at him out of the corner of his eye, and wonders if they’re thinking the same thing.

As the group is dismissed, Clover finds Qrow falling into step beside him, red eyes trailing after his niece, who’s trying her best to calm a furious Nora as they head back to their dorms to rest. Qrow’s usually lax posture is stiff in a way that Clover recognizes to be anticipation of an attack rather than just stress, and that makes him take a little better account of Qrow’s response to the news. The man’s jaw is set, his shoulders taut, his fingers halfway curled into fists like he wants to reach for his weapon.

The certainty of Ruby’s report seems to make sense, suddenly.

“...You know Tyrian,” Clover says after a long moment of silence. They’re the only two left in the hall at this point. He’s not really walking in any particular direction, and he’s not quite sure Qrow is, either. 

Qrow exhales through his nose, tightens his hands. “Yes.”

“Personally?”

“You could say that,” Qrow answers. 

He sounds short, clipped. Qrow seems to like playing at nonchalance more often than not, but Clover’s seen enough of him at this point to know that he wears his heavier emotions on his face, just like his niece Yang seems to.

He stops walking. Qrow takes a few more steps before he stops too, glancing over his shoulder inquisitively even as his expression remains guarded. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Clover starts.

Qrow turns to face him and sticks his hands in his pockets. There he is again, pretending. “But you wanna know,” he finishes.

Clover nods. Qrow’s brows knit ever so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting Clover to admit it so freely. “You seem...anxious,” Clover says, hesitant.

Qrow snorts humorlessly. “What, everything going to hell isn’t reason enough for that?”

Clover pauses, unsure of how far he can push here. He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding Qrow’s challenging gaze while he deliberates. The coldness isn’t directed at him; the fact that Qrow’s walked so far with him, the fact that he’s still standing here now, is proof of that. “You seem anxious like you’re waiting for something to jump out and bite you,” he elaborates, finally meeting Qrow’s eyes again.

At that, Qrow seems to deflate a little. Now it’s his turn to avoid Clover’s gaze, scuffing the toe of his boot against the Academy’s shiny floors. “I only met Tyrian once,” he admits, a little softer now. “Before the kids and I made it to Mistral a while back. Didn’t go too well.”

Clover’s done his homework in the few days between the disastrous election and now. He knows Tyrian’s got notes on his file describing him as, lightly put, psychotic and temperamental, unsettling at least and utterly deadly at most. Something clenches tight in his gut. He wants Qrow closer, suddenly. 

“Something happened to you,” Clover murmurs. 

Qrow chuckles. “Lucky guess,” he teases. It makes Clover’s lip tick up a little at the corner, but only until Qrow takes a hand out of his pocket to rub absently below his ribs. “He grazed me, that’s all.” 

“Grazed you—!” The anger wells up fast and sharp, possessive and defensive in a way he’s got no right to. Qrow looks up at him quickly, taken aback. Clover grits his teeth and shuts his eyes for a moment, exhaling all his brief fury out in a slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, more for shocking Qrow than feeling it. “We have...there’s records of what his venom does, Qrow. A graze isn’t nothing. That’s all it takes.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to tell me,” Qrow mutters, closed off again. He sticks his hand back into his pocket, a slouch in his walk as he turns away. 

Clover catches his arm before he can think about it. “I didn’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, grateful when Qrow stops again. “Qrow, you...I know you don’t hold the military in high regard —” 

“Who told you that?” Qrow asks, surprised, then frowns, embarrassment plain on his face. “Look, did Winter —” 

“I have eyes,” Clover interrupts, then sighs and lets go of him. “Listen. I know you’re not Ace Ops, but I...I thought we worked well together.”

There’s a long pause while Qrow looks him over. Clover wonders if he’s imagining the faint pink on Qrow’s cheeks. “...We do,” he agrees after a moment.

Clover feels himself brighten, just a little, at the implication that Qrow would work with him again, that he enjoyed it the first few times. It makes him braver; he goes on, “I think of us as partners. I don’t want my partner to brush it off if he’s suffered.” 

He must’ve said something right. Qrow’s eyes have gone wide, his features taking on that same cute, boyish look as in the mines when Clover revealed his semblance, as in the back of the transport when Clover insisted he take a compliment. It makes him wonder how many people outside of this man’s family have ever shown him kindness.

“Hey, I made it, didn’t I?” Qrow says, visibly thrown. The cheer sounds forced. “Wasn’t that bad.” 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Clover tells him, insistent. 

Qrow’s lips part. He’s staring. “Uh...thanks.” He blinks, like catching himself, then looks away. “Better me than one of the kids.” 

“It shouldn’t have happened to you, Qrow,” Clover repeats.

There’s a charged silence. The city's a mess and even their inner circles feel one sharp pull from falling apart, but in the empty hallways and high ceilings it feels, very briefly, like they could be the only two in the world.

Or maybe Clover is just careening down the slippery slope that is falling for Qrow Branwen. He can’t say.

“Well, you sure know how to make a guy feel special, Wonder Boy,” Qrow says. He looks a little sheepish, a little flattered. 

Clover offers him a smile. “You deserve it,” he says, and hopes Qrow knows he means it.

Qrow flushes. Something fluttery and hot jumps in Clover’s belly, seeing that pretty flash of red over Qrow’s pale skin. He’d like to see it again, he thinks, maybe along his neck and shoulders, maybe all the way down his chest — 

“You wanna go get something to eat?” Qrow asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He scuffs the floor with his boot again. Does he think Clover will say no?

“I’d love to,” Clover says, perhaps a little too quickly. Qrow looks surprised again, but pleasantly. There’s a hopeful sort of smile on his face that Clover likes, though he makes some small attempt at hiding it by cocking his head down the hall and starting off again at a leisurely pace. Clover watches him go for a moment, steadying his heart, then trots after him. They’ll have to get back to work soon. With things as they are, they’ll be lucky to get an hour to themselves. 

Clover thinks he can manage that.

* * *

Kingfisher’s hook lashes, angry, across The Queen’s Servants. Tyrian leaps back, bounces on his new tail, eyes flitting up to the roofs before Clover lands at Robyn’s back. Qrow follows just after him, the desire for vengeance flaring in his chest on top of the worry.

“Sorry, Callows,” she says, triumphant. “I really wanted to pummel you on my own, but the General insisted I share.”

Qrow lets Harbinger click into shotgun mode. Tyrian’s eyes flick to him briefly, furious recognition in his shrunken pupils. The scar he left on Qrow’s side itches. 

“Well, you’re not the only one with a grudge,” Clover says, Kingfisher propped on his shoulder. 

“You’re both going to have to get in line,” Qrow says, but inwardly, he falters, and he wonders if Clover’s grudge has a little bit to do with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Very intrigued....very tickled by Clover's expression when he got his orders and also the _implications_ of his grudge mirroring Robyn's, in that he's angry for both the people of Mantle and an attack on a lover 🤔


End file.
